


Haunted Asylum

by cola1320



Series: Carry on My Wayward Daughter: A Supernatural Fanfiction Collection [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cola1320/pseuds/cola1320
Summary: Suffering catastrophic loss, Avery finds that hunting with the Winchesters is tougher than she ever imagined.  Getting to know the boys while tackling her first real case might prove to be too much for the newbie hunter.  But can she survive the night in the world's most haunted asylum?





	1. Chapter 1

Thick smoke hung in the air, choking me as I stumbled around the old house. I hacked violently, leaning on a doorframe, trying to get my bearings. I could see the glow of fire crawling up the stairwell behind me, its tendrils seeking to smother me. I ran down the hall, banging on closed doors as I raced by. I screamed for them to wake up, hoping someone would hear me. But the doorknobs refused to turn, the fire creeping closer, as I continued to flee. I sprinted through the endless maze until my lungs felt like they could burst, filled with more smoke than oxygen. I slammed into a dead-end corridor as the flames rounded the corner behind me. I beat against the wall, crying and begging there to be another way out. As the blaze got closer, I could hear their voices calling out to me. When I gazed into the flames, I could see my family standing there. Their eyes were hollow and lifeless, tendrils of fire curling around their charred bodies. They beckoned and called to me, inviting me to join them in the suffering I condemned them to as the fiery vines twisted towards me. And there, standing behind my burning family, was a red-eyed demon with a cruel smile on his face. I opened my mouth to scream as the flames finally kissed my skin.  
I woke myself up before the scream escaped my lips. My thick brunette curls clung to my face and I wasn’t sure if it was from sweat or tears. I pushed my hair out of my face as I sat up, trying to calm my rapid breathing. Nothing felt safe or familiar about the motel room we were staying in as I glanced around in the dark. I was afraid to examine the darkness around me, convinced I would see my family’s charred faces peering back at me. Both boys were sound asleep, a soft snore escaping their mouth occasionally. I quietly crawled out of bed, grabbing a shirt laying over the back of a nearby chair. After pulling on jeans and my boots, I slipped outside.  
“It’s just a dream,” I whispered to myself over and over as I walked to the Impala. I climbed on top of the trunk and shrugged on the over shirt I had grabbed. I shivered despite the thick material, undoubtedly from the thin layer of sweat covering my skin. The air was cold in the dark, pre-dawn hours of the morning; even colder because of our location. We were in the northeast corner of Kansas; or had we finally crossed over into Nebraska? Either way it was farther north than I had ever been.  
“So that’s where my shirt went.” I jumped at the voice, not expecting anyone else to be awake so early. Dean was walking up to me, hands stuck in his pockets with his thumbs hanging out. His normally styled hair was ruffled from sleep and his green eyes looked concerned. I glanced down and saw that I had indeed accidentally stolen his shirt. “You alright?” he asked, hopping up beside me.  
I shook my head, trying to convince him. “Uh, yeah, of course. Just couldn’t sleep,” I smiled weakly, which I knew he didn’t buy for a second. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” I apologized, dropping my head to pick at one of my fingernails.  
“Nightmare again?” I nodded, ignoring the tears pressing against my eyes. “You didn’t scream this time,” he noted, shoulder bumping me lightly. I’m sure he meant it to cheer me up, but it only made me feel worse.  
I had started traveling with Dean and Sam a few weeks ago, leaving everything behind. We had quickly adjusted to each other, the boys already starting to fill the gap left by my late family. Their absence stung fiercely, threatening to choke the life out of me; but the way the Winchester’s acted like my older brothers made the hole in my chest smaller and the pain a bit more bearable. We bounced from one motel to the next, slowly making our way up the Kansas/Missouri border. My recurring nightmare had showed up a few days after leaving Arkansas. The first night I had woken them up screaming bloody murder. The boys had jumped out of bed, pistols in hand, ready to gank whatever was attacking me; I had been so embarrassed to scare them like that for a stupid dream. As the nightmare continued to come back most nights, I learned to wake myself up before it got too far. What I couldn’t seem to learn was how to stop the feelings the nightmare dredged up every night, leaving me with fresh waves of pain even copious amounts of alcohol was having trouble taming.  
“What woke you up then?” I wondered, looking up at him.  
“You’re not as quiet as you think,” he teased with a small smile. I felt the edge of my mouth lift, knowing that he was trying to comfort me in his own way. “Well, do you think you can go back to sleep?” he asked me, clasping his hands together in front of him.  
“I doubt it,” I admitted, shaking out my hair and rubbing away the leftover makeup that no doubt resided underneath my eyes.  
“Then let’s get started,” he grinned, sliding off the Impala and striding across the parking lot to an open grassy area. I scrambled after him, holding on to the oversized flannel as it flapped in the wind.  
By the time the sun rose a few hours later, Dean and I were both soaked in sweat despite the cold air. I threw a right hook at his extended hand, firmly smacking his palm. I held my fists in front of my face, bobbing lightly on my toes, just like he had taught me.  
“Better,” he said gruffly, flexing his fingers. “Again,” he commanded, a slight twinkle in his green eyes. I punched his hand again, harder, gritting my teeth.  
Nearly every morning I sparred with one or both boys, trying to learn hand to hand combat. It was a good outlet for my pent-up emotions and necessary if I was going to survive being a hunter. This morning Dean had me going through basic stances. Once I could hold the stance, then he showed me how to strike from the position. I would throw punches, kicks, and strikes dozens of times until he approved. Then we would move on to the next position. It wasn’t surprising that dark purple bruises covered most of my knuckles, forearms, and shins.  
“You hit like a girl,” Dean smirked with a cocky grin when my next hit was less than spectacular. My temper flared at his offhand comment, making my brow furrow. It was a simple jest, meant to rile me up, but I found it striking a raw chord I didn’t even know was there. I wound up, preparing to miss his hand and hit him square in the jaw. As I let my hand go, he easily caught my fist. His hand was large enough that his fingers wrapped completely around it, so I couldn’t pull back. His eyes had gone dark and his mouth formed a stern line. “Act like you mean it and don’t tell the person where you’re gonna strike,” he chastised, squeeze my fist and making my eyes water.  
“I didn’t say anything,” I spat, teeth clenched. I tried prying his fingers off with my other hand, but they wouldn’t budge.  
“Didn’t have to,” he countered, tightening his grip as I tried to pull against him. “Your whole body told me right where you were aiming.” He twerked my arm as he let go, throwing me off balance so that I stumbled forward.  
I came up swinging, truly starting to get angry. He blocked me with his forearms as easily as if he were swatting a fly. He let me throw a few more, my last one managing to clip his jaw. Pain ran across my knuckles and down my fingers as I pulled back, wincing. He slid his jaw slowly back and forth, popped his neck, and gave me an unforgiving smile. My eyes widened in panic, realizing what I had done. Dean’s right arm came crashing down, giving me only enough time to throw my arms up over my head. When his arm bounced off mine, I raised my head, trying to think of what I was supposed to do next. I couldn’t collect my thoughts before he threw another punch. I thankfully ducked to the left, feeling the breeze of his fist across my cheek.  
“Dean!” Sam shouted, jogging towards us from the motel room. His call distracted his brother long enough that I was able to take a quick breath and think of my next move. I raised my leg, planning to strike his side. Dean was quicker though, catching my foot with both hands. He raised an eyebrow, not amused, but clearly enjoying me dancing around on one leg.  
“Let go,” I growled, nose flaring. I hopped around, trying my hardest not to lose my balance. I recognized his cheeky smirk a moment too late, immediately starting to protest. He didn’t listen, instead twisting my ankle and leg so that I went crashing to the ground. I rolled to sit upright, grabbing the knife at my hip in one fluid motion. I jumped to my feet, reared back, and hurled the blade as hard as I could. It flew by Dean’s head, barely missing his ear.  
Sam reached us as I threw the knife, all three of us breathing heavily. Dean’s eyes widened in shock which was quickly replaced by rage. His brother recognized the look and grabbed me around the waist, pointing a finger at Dean, saying, “Don’t!”  
“Sam, let me go!” I shouted, flailing in his iron grip. He carried me to a park bench a little way away and sat me down roughly, which was partially my fault. He gave me an exasperated look as I fumed, arms crossed. I could see Dean stalking off to pick up the knife, now buried up to the hilt in the grass. “Your brother’s a jerk,” I grumbled as Sam sat down to inspect my ankle. I inhaled sharply when he touched it, pain already starting to develop.  
“He doesn’t know any better,” Sam said quietly, still looking at my ankle.  
“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.  
“Our dad was a real hard ass. It was learn quick or get hurt. That right there,” he said, glancing at his brother, “was exactly how he trained us.”  
“You don’t really talk about him,” I said softly, laughing inwardly at how Sam’s hair kept falling in his face. He looked up at me through it, his doe brown eyes turning sad.  
“Ah, well, we didn’t really get along. But he did the best he could, given the circumstances, raising us by himself.” His eyes went a little misty and his voice started to choke.  
“Is he…?” I couldn’t finish the thought, thinking of my own father. Sam nodded, biting his lip. “I’m sorry,” I said sincerely, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. Maybe the three of us had more in common than we thought.  
He flashed a quick smile, then mumbled, “Thanks, Avery.”  
“So, what’s the diagnosis on my ankle?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood and reciprocate the kindness they had shown me lately.  
“It’s not broken. Just bruised like the rest of you,” he joked, pointing at my purple knuckles. I rolled my eyes and grabbed his extended hand as I swung off the bench. We walked to the Impala where Dean was leaned against the side, just getting off the phone.  
“Time to pack up, kiddos. We’ve got a case,” he said as we got closer, pushing off the car.  
“Where at?” Sam asked.  
“Right outside Louisville, Kentucky,” his brother answered. Sam nodded and headed inside the motel room to grab his things. I was about to follow him when Dean stopped me. He held out the knife I had thrown earlier, handing it to me. As I reached to grab it, he pulled the handle back. “You try something like that again, missy-,” he started, scowling at me, his tone making it clear that he was still angry.  
“Yeah, I know,” I snorted, trying to cool my own temper. He handed back the blade which I returned to its sheath. We threw our things into worn out duffle bags and loaded up into the Impala in a matter of fifteen minutes, which thankfully improved Dean’s mood. He was itching for a hunt, wanting nothing more than a long black flat top in front of Baby. I took my honorary place in the backseat, pulling out a book for the long drive. Dean started blaring his mullet rock music, loud enough that the windows shook. “Really?” I shouted, holding up my book in the rearview mirror for him to see. He gave me a snarky grin before turning up the volume more. I stuck my tongue out, knowing he was still punishing me for earlier. He returned the gesture and I saw Sam shake his head at our childishness.  
I grudgingly dug through my bag in the floorboard. It was better to let him enjoy the drive then have him riding my butt the rest of the hunt because he was pissed. I grabbed my iPod and stuck my earbuds in, hoping to drown out the sound of screeching guitars. Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts began playing and I shrugged, liking the upbeat country song.


	2. Chapter 2

Eight hours of road tripping later put us just outside of Louisville, Kentucky. I was fascinated by the bright lights and skyscrapers as we drove to our motel on the other side of town. I fangirled a little as we passed Churchill Downs, receiving odd looks from both Winchesters. I had to explain that I had been raised around horses and being able to see the racetrack was on my bucket list. Or at least it had been before my life had been disrupted.  
When we finally parked, I groaned as I climbed out of the Impala. I stretched, hoping it would help the aching in my limbs from sitting for so long. Dean rolled his eyes slightly while Sam gave me a sympathetic look. We strolled into the Derby themed room where I proceeded to plop down on the couch dramatically. Dean set his bag down and smacked me lightly on the back of the head, telling me to sit up.  
“Ouch!” I said, rubbing my head as I scooted over to let him sit down.  
“Princess,” he teased, “that didn’t even hurt.”  
“Whatever.” I shoved him against the arm of the couch playfully to which he acted offended.  
“Better watch yourself, King,” he warned, trying to hide a grin as he pushed back.  
“Yeah? Or what?” I challenged. I turned to look at him and found his deep green eyes staring at me intently. For a moment, I got lost in them and the dusting of freckles across his nose. Those endless freckles that covered his handsome face and enhancing his cheekbones. He leaned in closer, only a few inches from my face, and I felt the air catch in my throat. Was he going to kiss me, I found myself briefly wondering.  
Instead, he quickly pinned me against the couch. I gasped as he gently pushed his hips down on mine, leaving little to my imagination. “I’m not sure you’ll like being under me,” he whispered, his voice low and husky in my ear. “Then again…” he trailed off, giving me a lustful look. His lips hovered over my skin, slowly making their way to mine. His head bobbed, teasing me so that my lips parted slightly. I could feel his breath on my skin and his scent filled my nostrils. I could hardly think as our lips barely touched, but longing was starting to take over my body.  
“Dean,” I breathed, not sure if I was asking him to get off or come closer. He pulled away slightly, staring me dead in the eye. Before he could do anything though, the bathroom door began to jiggle. My eyes went wide, having completely forgotten about Sam. I pushed Dean off me hurriedly, my heart pounding. He seemed dazed, just sitting there watching me as I fixed my hair and clothes.  
Sam walked out to see us panting lightly, my cheeks flushed a deep red. “Uh, did I miss something?” he asked uncomfortably, thinking he had just caught us in the act. I was about to tell him to shove it, still embarrassed that I had let myself succumb to Dean so easily.  
“What are you talking about, man?” Dean answered before I could, playing the whole thing off. He stood, discreetly adjusting his jeans as he did. Sam gave him a look of disbelief but didn’t say anything else. “Well,” he said, glancing at his watch, “it’s too late to get started on the case. Looks like we have the night to ourselves, kids.” He grinned, no doubt thinking of what he would do with his evening.  
“Speaking of the case, mind sharing the details?” I asked, still completely in the dark.  
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot someone fell asleep on the ride here,” Sam pestered, already pulling his laptop out of his bag.  
I scrunched my face sullenly. “I don’t sleep well,” I grumbled, hating that I was teased for my napping. I lived in a constant state of exhaustion now, so I caught a few z’s whenever I could manage. Sam dropped his gaze at the tone of my voice, realizing he had hit a nerve. One of the many I seemed to possess now.  
“Bobby called this morning, said he’d gotten a tip from a retired buddy of his.” Dean pulled out a chair from the table as he talked and sat down, straddling it. “Several mysterious and brutal murders at the Waverly Hills Sanatorium over the last few months; all taking place in room five oh two.”  
“All in that room?” I gawked.  
“Yep,” he nodded. “Local police think it’s gang and drug related.”  
“So, whadda we think it is?” I had been reading through John Winchester’s journal in my spare time, but I couldn’t rattle off supernatural beings yet.  
“Waverly is chocked full of ghosts,” Sam interjected excitedly. “They hold daily ghost tours during this time of the year.” He was practically bouncing in his seat as he talked.  
Dean shook his head at Sam while giving me a sidelong glance. “He’s got a haunted hotel fetish thing,” he told me.  
“It is not a fetish,” Sam said defensively.  
“It’s a load of bullshit, if you ask me,” Dean snapped back. “Those places are rigged with motion sensors and projectors and crap. It’s all a hoax.” I sat back, enjoying them bicker like the brothers they were.  
“So, I guess we’re staying up to do research then,” I laughed, trying to distract them before they argued themselves into a fight.  
“Sam is doing that, short stuff,” Dean corrected. “I’m going to see what the night life is like here.” He winked with a cocky look plastered across his face. “You coming?” he asked me as he stood and grabbed the Impala’s keys.  
“Uh, no. Not tonight,” I mumbled.  
The boys seemed surprised at my answer, mouths hanging open a little. “Really?” Dean questioned. Apparently, it had become common for me to accompany Dean on his bar excursions. I usually went for the alcohol, occasionally flirting for a few free drinks from men too drunk to care. Dean liked the company and considered me his wing woman. But after our ‘moment’ earlier, I wasn’t feeling like dealing with him. My cheeks were flushing just thinking about his weight bearing down on me.  
No, not tonight. Let him drink and hit on people alone. Sam was far better company anyways. “Still a brand-new bottle of Jack in your bag?”  
“Well, yeah-,” he started, not sure why I was asking.  
“Then I’m staying in,” I said firmly.  
“Suit yourself,” Dean grumbled, slamming the door behind him as he left. Sam chuckled a little, still gawking at me.  
“What?” I shrugged, acting innocent.  
“Did something happen between you and my brother?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.  
“Me and Dean?” I scoffed, rummaging through Dean’s bag for the whiskey bottle. “Not a chance,” I smirked. “Besides, you know you’re my favorite, Sam.” I winked playfully as I grabbed my own computer and sat down opposite him at the table.  
He blushed lightly, knowing I was teasing him. “Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Avery.”  
“So, tell me what I’m looking for then,” I said, letting the alcohol rush down my throat as Sam talked.

“Avery,” the voice whispered, shaking my shoulder gently. I moaned groggily, lifting my head from the keyboard where it had been resting. I blinked several times to clear my vision, unfocused from profuse amounts of alcohol. The room was dark except for a small dim lamp whose light illuminated the deep green eyes in front of me. Green eyes? Didn’t I know someone with those eyes? They seemed so familiar, but my mind seemed so distant as I tried to recall.  
“Dean?” I mumbled, the name suddenly coming to me. He gave a half smile as I ran a hand over my face and through my hair. “What time is it?” I asked, swiveling my head for a clock in the dark room. “What the hell happened to your face?” As my vision cleared, I realized that his face was bleeding from a gash across his eyebrow and there was faint bruising around his eye.  
“Hmm?” he mused, absently reaching for his face as if he had forgotten about the wound. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”  
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I insisted, stretching my hand out to double check.  
“I said it was nothing,” he said loudly, flicking my hand away. Sam rolled over in his sleep at the loud noise, making us both flinch.  
“Sit your butt down now,” I hissed quietly, glaring when he thought about ignoring me. He conceded, rolling his eyes as he sat down at the table. I pulled our small first aid kit out of Sam’s bag and rejoined Dean at the table. “So, you gonna tell me what happened?” I asked, lightly wiping the blood off his face.  
He unscrewed the lid of the bourbon bottle as he talked. “I was having a good ole time, my tongue down this hot blonde’s throat. Next thing I know, her husband is caving my face in.” He took a swig of the liquid, wincing when I pressed too hard on his forehead. “Guess he didn’t like it.”  
“Pig,” I muttered under my breath, scowling as I tacked a butterfly bandage on his face.  
“Jesus-” he started to exclaim before I hushed him. “Jesus,” he said, lowering his voice, “how much of a scumbag do you think I am?”  
“Oh, please!” I angrily whispered back. “I’ve seen how you work. Night after night, hitting on anything with a pulse.”  
“Yeah, well, for your information I was minding my own business when she came on to me. Didn’t even buy me a drink or say anything about a husband,” he grumbled, obviously offended that I thought so little of him.  
My face softened at his reaction, sorry that I had so quickly misjudged him. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.  
“Yeah, well…” he trailed off, his voice sounding as if he didn’t blame me. “At least your evening was better than mine.”  
I snaked the bottle from him, my previous buzz rapidly wearing off. “I don’t know about that. So much research,” I moaned when Dean gave me a quizzical look. “There’s just too much on this place. Nobody agrees on anything and when they do nothing is consistent. Believe all of it or none of it,” I shrugged hopelessly.  
“So, you’re saying we’re going in blind?”  
“I’m saying we won’t know anything until we get in there ourselves.”  
He groaned, “Awesome,” before taking the alcohol back from me. “I think you’ve had enough for one night,” he said.  
“So have you,” I protested, reaching for it.  
“Then let’s call it a night, alright?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for my compliance. I scrunched my face before giving in and rising from the table.  
“Goodnight, Dean,” I said softly over my shoulder, getting ready to climb in bed.  
“Night, short stuff,” he returned gruffly, flipping off the light as he settled onto the couch. I stared into the darkness for several minutes, listening to his calm breathing, hoping the Jack Daniels was enough to give me a dreamless night.

Waverly Hills Sanatorium surely lived up to its reputation. It rose tall out of the ground, stretching wide across the land it inhabited. The brick was old and worn from improper care and hardly a window wasn’t broken or boarded up. Fresh graffiti covered a few panels on the lower level, despite the maintenance man’s vicious scrubbing. The sun created creeping shadows that seemed to claw their way towards the lines of people eagerly waiting outside.  
I couldn’t help but shiver from the sheer presence of the building as I stepped out of the Impala. The feeling of darkness and pain was almost palpable in the air. I hugged closely to Sam and Dean, their strength and assurance soothing me slightly. We strolled to the entrance, paying for our overpriced tickets with Dean’s fake credit card. This was supposed to be a scouting trip to see what we were up against, but I felt naked without any weapons. I was visibly shaking from fear and anticipation as we walked through the main doors to join a group tour.  
Sam noticed and placed a hand on my back while leaning down to talk in my ear. “Are you okay?” His voice was full of concern and it touched me to think that he cared so much.  
“Do I look okay?” I snapped back without meaning to. He frowned, not understanding what he had done wrong. “I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head apologetically. “I’m just a little nervous is all. Haunted houses aren’t really my thing.”  
He smiled kindly, his eyes giving me a sympathetic look. “Everyone gets scared on their first hunt,” he reassured me.  
“But this isn’t my first hunt,” I started to object before Dean cut in.  
“That vampire mess doesn’t count. Didn’t even gank a single thing,” he scoffed, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets as he glanced around the high vaulted ceiling of the foyer.  
I rolled my eyes, grumbling under my breath, “Still managed to save your ass though.”  
He pretended he didn’t hear my comment as Sam gave a small cough of a laugh. “You’re in the wrong line of business if you can’t handle this,” Dean said, giving me a harsh look. “You’re walking back to Arkansas if it doesn’t work out.”  
“That’s too bad, cause you’re stuck with me now, Winchester,” I smirked back. He wasn’t going to get rid of me that easily. I may have been scared, but I wasn’t a chicken or a quitter. I only had that much more to prove now.  
He rolled his eyes while giving my face a small push, an endearing gesture meant to wipe away my smug look. “Shut up,” he chuckled as I huffed, fixing the hair that had fallen in front of my eyes. “And don’t get left behind,” he added as the tour guide cheerfully called for our attention.  
“Do you mind?” I sheepishly asked Sam, grabbing a fistful of the corner of his jacket. He gave me a crooked grin and gently placed my hand in the crook of his elbow. I had to walk briskly to keep up with his long strides, but I felt better knowing if something happened that he would have my back.  
Our tour guide was a peppy blonde with a shrill voice who quickly picked Dean out of the crowd. As she led us through the rooms and floors, she made a point to answer any and every question he asked. Much of the first floor had been renovated, but a fresh coat of paint couldn’t shake the amount of suffering that had occurred here. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end the further we walked, and I found myself purposely avoiding looking in hidden corners.  
As we neared the end of the fourth floor, Sam pulled his EMF reader out of his pocket to check for a signal. I happened to catch the tour guide’s cheery voice over the noise of the EMF reader in my ear. “…Our white lady struck again recently so I’m afraid our tour of the inside of the building is going to be cut short today, so if everyone would please follow me downstairs.”  
“White lady?” I muttered to myself, realizing a second later that she was referring to our ghost. “Hey! Wait a sec!” I shouted after her, letting go of Sam’s arm to push to the front of the crowd to make sure I was heard. “What white lady?” I asked when the tour guide turned around to acknowledge me.  
“Our resident white lady? Of room five oh two? Oh, she’s our most famous ghost here,” the woman told me proudly, as if vengeful spirits were something to be proud of. “In nineteen twenty-eight, nurse Mary Hillenburg worked here. She had a love affair with one of the doctors and got pregnant out of wedlock with his child. When the doctor refused to leave his wife and the abortion failed, Mary took her own life. She hung herself on a light fixture inside room five oh two. They say she only murders those who look like her scornful lover.” She seemed happy with her story telling abilities and, after asking if there were any more questions, led us down the stairs.  
“Nice catch,” Sam said with a wink as he walked past me, shuffling the EMF reader back into his jacket pocket.  
“Thanks,” I managed, my gaze lingering on the stairs leading up to the fifth floor. The remaining portion of the tour was outside, viewing numerous pavilions, an outdoor chapel, and the sanitorium’s personal cemetery. While the cemetery had its own spooky atmosphere, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something ominous was watching us from the fifth floor of the main building. I avoided glancing at the windows, too afraid I would see a shadow staring back at me.  
The tour ended when our guide led us back inside to a cliché gift shop that contained merchandise claiming we had survived the world’s most haunted hospital. Sam and I wondered aimlessly, jesting about some of the more outrageous products while Dean sweet talked the tour guide in the corner. He was flirting nonstop and her loud giggling rang around the room, making me grit my teeth in annoyance. I had almost convinced myself to drag him out by his ear when Sam suggested we go wait outside. I conceded and followed him back to the Impala, where we propped up against the trunk.  
I stuffed my hands deeper into the pockets of my hooded leather jacket, the cold air nipping at my exposed skin. “Sam,” I asked, “how did you end up so normal and Dean ended up, well, like that?” I gestured over to where Dean had the blonde tour guide pressed against the building, their tongues down each other’s throats.  
Sam chuckled slightly, the noise sounding as if he was embarrassed though I doubted he was surprised by anything his brother did anymore. “He’s always been like that, for as long as I can remember. Even when we were kids, I was the nerdy little brother who liked homework and Dean was the rockstar sex god.”  
“So, too cool for school and too cool for little brother Sammy?” I guessed.  
“No,” Sam corrected, his voice going distant, “he was never too cool for me. But it didn’t make me feel like any less of an outsider.” His tone had turned sad, the air around him damping. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to ask or even if I should. “Sorry,” he apologized, clearing his throat with an awkward laugh.  
I shrugged, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Don’t be,” I told him. “You happen to be sitting next the biggest band geek my town has ever seen.”  
I grinned as his eyes grew wide. “No way! You?” he asked in surprise, unable to believe his ears.  
“Honest to God,” I swore, raising my hand in the air. “Drum major for three years too.”  
He laughed heartily at that, no doubt trying to picture me in all my glory. “Alright, I think you win who’s-the-biggest-nerd contest.”  
“Yeah, I usually do. Oh, look, here comes Casanova,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as Dean coolly walked over to the car.  
He was grinning broadly, letting out a breathless sigh as he moved to stand between us. “I got her number,” he boasted, glancing back at the building where the guide was still standing.  
“And?” Sam asked, trying to tease something else out of him.  
“And she happened to tell me that there’s no security in the building after nine o’clock. The guards are too scared to stay inside the building, so they station them at the gate at the end of the drive.”  
“No wonder they have trouble with trespassers,” I commented, knowing how easy it was for teenagers to sneak in whenever they wanted.  
“No kidding,” Sam agreed. “What’s the plan?” He looked to his older brother to officially call the shots.  
“We’ll get outta here and park down the road; wait until they pull all the guards out and then sneak back in.”  
“Sounds good,” I said, rolling off the trunk and getting ready to climb into the backseat.


	3. Chapter 3

We had more than a couple of hours to kill before we could work the job, so Sam and I passed the time playing mindless games while Dean flipped through a newspaper. Sam was beating me mercilessly at thumb wars and we thankfully switched to Never Have I Ever. We were evenly matched, having already used the easy ones like eye color and hand dexterity.  
It was his turn and he had his hand under his chin, trying to think of a question good enough to ask. “Got it!” he nearly shouted, his eyes gleaming. “Never have I ever worked at a fast food restaurant.” His face was nearly as smug as Dean’s when he’d beat me at hand to hand combat.  
My mouth hung open in shock as I unwillingly folded one of my fingers. “That was a cheap shot, Sam Winchester!” I finally managed as he laughed at my bewildered expression. “And besides,” I retorted, “I wouldn’t call the diner fast food.”  
“Then what would you call it?” he chuckled, knowing he had me.  
“Fine,” I grumbled, “I’ll give you that one.” I pushed my anger aside, determined to get him back. The game was in his favor now at four fingers left, so I needed one I knew he had done. I racked my brain, trying to step up my game. God, I was so bad at this. “Never have I ever pointed a gun at someone,” bubbled out of my mouth only seconds after the idea popped into my head.  
Sam raised a perturbed eyebrow at me as he dropped a finger. “Now who’s taking low blows.”  
“Just returning the favor,” I drawled, batting my lashes playfully while smirking.   
He rolled his eyes with a small chortle before giving me a cruel smile. “Never have I ever milked a cow.”  
My face deadpanned at the obvious hit. “I hate you,” I said through gritted teeth, once again lowering a finger into my accumulating fist.   
“Yeah, okay,” Sam teased, not believing a word I said.  
“I am going to beat you if you keep taking all these low blows,” I threatened, my finger pointed menacingly at him over the seat separating us. He held his hands up in mock surrender. Dean tried to cover the sound of a chuckle as his newspaper crinkled loudly as he turned the page.  
My turn again? Never have I flirted my way out of a speeding ticket? No, that was a lie. Never broken into a friend’s house? That wouldn’t work either. “Umm… let’s see,” I rambled, trying to come up with something quick. “Never have I ever run away from home?” Even as I said the words, I was frantically trying to remember if I had ever done such a thing. Sam’s mouth contorted in a displeased manor as he put down another finger. “What?” I screeched, never believing sweet innocent Sam would pull such a stunt. He nodded his head sheepishly, ashamed to admit it. “No way!”  
“I was a kid!” he countered quickly, trying to dissuade me. “Like maybe five or six,” he added at my incredulous look. “Young enough to have an imaginary friend.”  
This time Dean scoffed loud enough for us to hear, lifting his head to look at his brother. “Dude, you were more like nine.”  
Sam blushed bright red as I laughed, trying to hide beneath his shaggy hair. “Oh god, you had an imaginary friend. How precious.” I squealed, picturing a prepubescent Sam running around with an imaginary friend.  
“Never have I ever been to prom!” he interjected, stopping my laugh in its tracks. He stuck his tongue out and I returned the gesture as I laid down my finger.  
“Fine, guilty. Wait. Why haven’t you been to a prom?” Sure, prom was one of those timeless traditions that required everyone attend or you were ridiculed endlessly; but deep down it was the highlight of high school. My dress had still been in the back of my closet when my house had burned to the ground.  
“It’s a long story,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck, “One that consists of hunting a werewolf and Dad breaking his wrist.”  
“Not to mention you couldn’t get a date,” Dean sniggered. He chortled as he recalled the memory. “You were relieved when he said we had to pack it up.”  
“I could too have gotten a date!” his brother snapped defensively. “I just didn’t wanna go is all. High school dances are lame anyways.”  
I pursed my lips at his little side comment as I responded. “I enjoyed my lame high school prom, thank you very much.”  
“End up going with a group of girlfriends?” Dean teased, turning around to look at my pouting face.  
“That is none of your business,” I told him, wishing the heat in my cheeks would go away as his knowing eyes searched my face.  
“That’s a yes,” he said with a smirk, turning back to his newspaper once more. Part of me wanted to defend myself, knowing there was nothing to be said, while the rest of me wanted to slap him. I did neither, instead seething at the fact that he could read me so easily. The majority of the time I didn’t understand Dean Winchester, yet he seemed capable of reading my mind. I chewed on my lip in an attempt to dissipate my rage before realizing Sam was waiting on me to ask my question.  
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, trying to get my mind off Dean. Why did I feel as if I had thought of a good question only moments ago? Something to do with speeding or the police perhaps. Yes! “Never have I ever been in handcuffs,” I piped up, proud at being able to recall the question. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that both Winchesters had spent fair amounts of time in handcuffs.  
Sam, who’s mouth was ajar in surprise, couldn’t manage a word before Dean cut in. “Never?” he asked curiously, dropping the newspaper in his lap to fully turn around and look at me over the seat. His mouth curled into a devious smile as he draped his arm over the leather stitching and his eyes shone cheekily.  
It took me a few moments longer than it should have to realize what he was implying. “Get your mind out of the gutter!” I snapped viscously, disgusted that his mind even went there. I felt the tips of my ears begin to burn as Dean laughed at my expense, always enjoying my embarrassment.  
Sam cast a disapproving sideways glance at his brother as he continued to snigger. “You got me again,” he conceded, pulling my attention away from Dean, “but that was an extremely pointed question.”  
“Oh? Well, I’ve been arrested before, so I had to be more specific than that.” I didn’t think much of my flippant response until both the brothers exploded.  
“You?” they shouted in unison. They scrambled in their seats, trying to see me better as I shrank back from their sudden loudness. Both were babbling words as if they were thinking of too many questions and couldn’t figure which ones to ask first.  
“My brother was a deputy!” was all I managed to say, a tad overwhelmed by the scene they were making.  
“That doesn’t mean jack squat!” Sam choked out. Dean mimicked him, using a more colorful word choice.  
Seeing how vehemently they reacted, I knew they weren’t going to let me go without telling the story. “Alright!” I shouted to silence them, so I could speak. “I was a teenager and a couple of friends, well, we got caught trespassing on someone’s land. Weren’t doing nothing but messing around. So, they called the cops and arrested everyone. It was just meant to scare us, and Dan was in on it the whole time.” I tried to hide behind my hair, an embarrassed blush creeping up my neck as I thought back on the memory.  
“Counts, you little felon,” Dean teased, typical smirk on his face. “Wish I’d known that before I agreed to let you tag along.” He nudged Sam playfully, who grinned deeply at his brother’s joke.  
“Please!” I blurted out, peeved by his harmless comment, “you two both have a rap sheet a mile long!”  
My temper only made them laugh, finding the situation even more comical. “Maybe if we get her angry, she’ll commit another crime,” Sam said, mischief tugging up the corners of his grin as he joined in on the fun.  
I pursed my lips, not enjoying their pestering. “I’m already about to break into a building with you,” I spat. “Not to mention I’m committing credit card fraud for you,” I added, silencing any quip Sam was about to make.  
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean cut in, “you wanted the clothes and the shoes and the iPod? Then you got to help find the money for them. What’s with those shoes anyways?” He snorted as he peeked over the seat to glance at my feet. “They’re not even practical.” He gave a disapproving look after studying my shoes for a brief moment.  
“They are too!” I shot back, offended by his criticism. The shoes in question were a pair of black faux leather booties with thick laces running up the front. Two parallel rows of small silver studs crested the tract of the zip on the backside. The three-inch heel was thicker than a stiletto and gave me just enough height to not feel so dwarfed by the giants who were my present company. “Besides, they’re cute with the little heel and studs.”  
“Whatever you say, munchkin,” Sam responded jovially with a chuckle.  
I gasped loudly, making sure I heard him correctly. “You shut your filthy mouth, Winchester,” I breathed, glaring daggers at him. “I am average height. Average!” I fumed, irate that he’d call me such a thing. But when his eyes crinkled as he grinned, part of me warmed at the thought of the pet name that was sure to stick. Dean constantly called me “short stuff”; how was this any different? I blamed my recent mood swings, outwardly rolling my eyes so that Sam might believe I was still upset. His sweet smile said he wasn’t fooled for a second. “Weren’t we playing a game?” I said, trying to distract the brothers from tormenting me further.   
“Yeah, yeah; of course,” Sam said, taking the hint. He sat thinking for several moments, both of us at one finger each. His next question could very well win him the game and he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. The longer we sat in silence the more I realized that we had nearly exhausted all our options. There were few things left that I could think of that would apply to him but not me.  
Sam pursed his lips before speaking, not confident in what he was about to say. “Never have I ever lost weight to impress someone.”  
“Dammit,” I mumbled, dropping my face as tears threatened to break down a dam I hadn’t thought of in a long time. Memories of blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a baby-faced frat boy flashed before my mind’s eye. “Good one,” I admitted without raising my head. I said the words, trying to push down the emotions that were ready to bubble up at any moment. Keep it together, Avery; it was a long time ago.  
“That sounds like there’s a story,” Dean commented, detecting the sudden change in my tone. I snapped up to find his green eyes staring at me intently.   
Before I could tell him to piss off, Sam spoke. “That face says it too.”  
The anger seemed to dissipate out of me as the boys’ pleading faces looked up at me, a hint of compassion flecking Sam’s irises. “Oh, guys, come on,” I begged, suddenly far more vulnerable than I was comfortable with.  
“C’mon, tell us,” Sam begged, giving me a pitiful pair of puppy dog eyes.  
“You’ve been spilling information this whole time,” Dean complained at the same time. “Don’t cut us off now.”   
I crinkled my nose at the truth; I had been baring my soul to them the last few hours. And if I knew them, they weren’t going to just drop the subject. Maybe I could satisfy them with vague details. I mean, I was supposed to be over it; wasn’t I? “There was this guy in college, okay?” I admitted, hoping that would pacify them.  
“Name,” Dean insisted, his eyes clear as he continued to stare. He surely wasn’t going to let me off the hook so easily.  
I breathed an irritated sigh through my nose, directing the noise at him. “His name was Kyle,” I said after a moment. As soon as the name left my lips, I had to blink back a fresh wave of tears. Time heals all wounds, my ass, I thought as emotions continued to well up in my chest. It had been two, no, nearly three years ago. “And he was my best friend.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, shattered nostalgia choking my throat.  
“So, what happened?” Sam asked innocently. I smiled sadly as he batted his lashes, a childish look gleaming in his doe brown eyes. What pain did this sweet summer child know? Had he ever lost the love of his life? Sure, we were the same age; but he never let on to the tragedies in his life. Why should I burden him with my sorrow? Perhaps he could learn from it and avoid my mistakes.  
“I was stupid is what happened,” I snapped bitterly. “Very first class of freshman year, this dude comes in late and the only seat open is right next to me, right? So, he sits down and just starts babbling about this crazy party he went to the night before.”   
I remembered it like it had happened yesterday. Awkward, twenty pounds heavier, freshman me sitting in the back of a three hundred seat auditorium for Chemistry I. Everyone was there for the first day of class, so it was no exaggeration that the only empty seat had been to my left. He had barged in the back doors with a loud clank, warranting a sharp look from the professor that had made him quickly dive into his seat. He had introduced himself with a warm smile and a hand extended in my direction. His voice was deep with a playful undertone that matched the goofy grin he always wore. Vivid amber eyes outlined by numerous laugh lines hidden under a tangle of blonde hair that poked through his backwards ball cap. A light dusting of freckles ran across the bridge of his nose, nearly blending in to his suntanned complexion. I had barely managed to mumble my name, wondering what had possessed me to take his hand.  
“I didn’t say much back, but the next class he comes and purposefully sits next to me again. And I don’t know; we just kinda clicked. After I warmed up to him of course. He took this shy, quiet, awkward, overweight girl under his wing like it was his personal mission to help me enjoy life. He invited me places to hang out and took me to parties. Anywhere he went, he dragged me along.” It hadn’t mattered who was going to be there or what other people said. He simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d lost count of the number of fights he had gotten into because someone spoke ill of me attending.  
“You fell in love,” Dean pointed out, interrupting my thoughts, as if it were some cliché romance novel he had guessed the ending to. Perhaps the story was a tad cliché, but it hadn’t felt that way living it.  
“Yeah, I did,” I admitted, embarrassed and angered by my younger self. “I fell in love with him. And thinking he’d never like the chubby girl, I dropped three dress sizes and twenty pounds in a semester. So, what does he do? Goes and gets a blonde little girlfriend. I guess I should have taken the hint; but no, I stuck with him, hoping he’d come to his senses and leave her. He proposed our senior year and I haven’t spoken to him since graduation. He’s somewhere in Texas, I think, with a cute little wife and probably a baby or two.” Inwardly, I seethed with anger, but my broken heart couldn’t handle the painful memories. A lonely tear tickled down my cheek, followed by two more. Hey, this is so not keeping it together. Water under the bridge, right? Breathe; just breathe. “You win, Sam,” I whispered into the silence that had fallen over the car.   
I carefully wiped the wetness from my face as his mouth worked wordlessly. “Avery,” he finally managed, “I’m-”  
“Don’t be.” I cut him off before he could apologize. He hadn’t coerced me; I had told them freely. “I was just a stupid girl,” I offered with a shrug.  
“To hell with him,” Dean growled loudly, not bothering to look at me as he turned back to the front of the car. “And you deserve better,” he insisted with a swift nod. “Guy who don’t know what he has doesn’t deserve to keep it anyways.”  
Sam gave me a soft smile as his brother spoke, adding the emotion that Dean was incapable of expressing. The words were meant to make me feel better and I would be lying if I said they didn’t. Dean truly cared about people, even if he had his own special way of showing it. Something about the tone of his voice said that he believed the things he spoke. So, what did that say about Mr. One-Night Stand? He was an incredibly complex character hidden behind candy apple green eyes that revealed nothing he didn’t want them to. Despite that, I had a budding theory he was truly a teddy bear underneath that rugged exterior.  
“Nine o’clock, kiddos,” Dean said as he clicked off the Impala’s engine. “Getcha game face on.”


	4. Chapter 4

My heart began to beat wildly inside my chest as we dug through the trunk for anything we might need. My knife was tucked safely inside my waistline, but the silver was going to be no match for a spirit. It was more of a security item for me, having hardly left my side since I’d left home. Crowbars, flashlights, rock salt, a lighter, and Dean’s sawed-off shotgun were all tossed inside an extremely faded green duffel bag that Sam tossed over his shoulder.  
I followed the brothers as we trekked through a small field, butterflies growing in my stomach with each step. We made our way to a portion of the sanitarium’s fence adjacent to the side of the building, far from where the stationed guards might see us. I gawked at the nine-foot-tall iron barred fence as Sam passed the bag through the rods, so it was waiting for us on the other side. He placed his booted foot on the solitary rung near the ground, hoisting himself effortlessly over the top. He grinned breathlessly as he dropped, absorbing the shock as he bent his knees.  
I let out a disbelieving sigh as Dean started to follow suit. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Grow wings and fly?” I squeaked, pleading with Sam through the fence.  
“You didn’t even try, you baby,” Dean complained grumpily, standing on the fence above me.   
To prove my point, I stood on the rung and reached up on my tiptoes as high as I could go. My fingertips brushed nothing but air, nowhere close to the top rung where I could grab and pull myself up. Plus, that would require me possessing enough upper body strength to do a pull up. Dean pursed his lips in annoyance and I even jumped, trying to grab the bar. The toe of my boot was the only thing to land on the low set rung, causing me to teeter over backwards. I barely caught myself, throwing my arms wildly while Sam tried to stifle his laughter.  
“Come on,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as he dropped to the ground. He interlaced his fingers, providing a perfect crevice for me to place my foot. I steadied myself with my hands on his shoulders as he struggled to stand while lifting me. “A little higher- Then push off- Okay?” he panted underneath me. I nodded, though I doubt he saw considering my hair was clouding his vision. He grunted as he raised his hands to the level of his chest and I couldn’t help but giggle as I shakily rose through the air. I pushed off as hard as I could, launching myself the rest of the way.  
Thankfully, and much to my surprise, my hands clasped around the metal fence. A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I tried not to think of what would’ve happened if that hadn’t worked. I pushed my arms against the bar, struggling to get one of my legs over the top. I succeeded, taking a short breather while sitting on the fence with both my legs dangling over the edge. Sam playfully grabbed my ankles, threatening to pull me off my perch. I gave him a menacing look and he desisted, instead holding out his arms to catch me. I held my breath and said a prayer, hoping he wouldn’t drop me. I braced myself on his shoulders as he caught and set me safely on the ground as if I weighed no more than a feather.  
“Munchkin,” he teased with a grin as Dean dropped down beside us. I rammed my shoulder into his side, meaning to push him over though he barely moved an inch.  
“Be serious, you two,” Dean snapped, “we’ve got a job to do.” He slung the duffel over his shoulder as he strode toward the sanitorium.  
To simply say Waverly was creepier at night was a vast understatement. The shadows that covered the building now seemed purely sinister and I knew without a doubt we were being watched by something otherworldly. Shivers raked my body as we walked closer to its imposing presence. We planned to break into a side door connected directly to the stairwell. That way we had a straight shot to the fifth floor and never had to risk being seen. Dean’s tour guide had assured him that the building had no alarms; but I balanced on the balls of my feet, ready to run at the slightest sound, as Sam picked the lock.  
Once inside, I had a crowbar and flashlight roughly shoved into my hands. Surely Dean noticed my shaking as he asked, “So, are you scared?” with a crooked smile.  
“No,” I said a little too quickly, trying to sound brave. My quivering voice betrayed me. “No, not at all,” I said again, willing my voice to stay steady with a deep breath. The boys glanced at each other before looking back at me.  
“Well, that’s good,” the older Winchester said, throwing back his shoulders in a ready fashion. “Cause there’s a pretty scary looking ghost standing right behind you.”  
I screamed too loud to notice his grin, dropping everything in my hands as I did my best to climb up Sam. The crowbar clattered loudly on the ground as Dean bent over to pick it up, both boys laughing heartily. It took me a moment to realize I was the butt of their joke before I viciously snatched the iron out of his hands, scowling. He placed a hand on my head to ruffle my hair, finding my expression just as comical as the reaction.  
“You guys suck,” I grumbled, having to get down on all fours to see where the flashlight had rolled. It was propped against the far wall, held in place by a thick mess of cobwebs that I wiped off on my jeans.   
When they stopped chuckling, a serious expression settled upon Dean’s face. I recognized it as his business look, reserved solely for the supernatural and meaning he wasn’t to be trifled with. The game plan was to canvas each level of the building until we found our murderous apparition. The three of us walked side by side down the hall, weapons at the ready. The tension was almost palpable as we cleared each room we passed.  
We turned around a blind corner on the first floor when I felt the chill in the air. I was about to comment on my visible breath when a wispy grey figure appeared in front of me. My mouth opened to let loose a scream, but the brothers were quicker. They each clamped a massive hand over my face to stop the noise.  
“It’s just a death echo,” Dean hissed in my ear.  
“Totally harmless,” Sam added softly, hoping to ease my fear.   
Even as they said so, I was ogling at the ghost only a few inches from me. It looked to be a decaying, middle aged man who flickered in the air the more I stared. He made an awful hacking sound as he pulled a white robe tighter around his thin body and turned to shuffle into the room on our left. With one last violent cough, he disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived. Several other death echoes took his place, sitting in invisible rocking chairs that lined the wall.  
“What happened to them?” I barely managed to squeak, pulling at the hands covering my mouth. We were watching their last moments occur repeatedly, and they seemed to be in such horrible pain. It honestly broke my heart that there was no way for us to put them at rest.  
Sam sighed deeply from behind me before answering. “This place was a tuberculosis hospital back when no one knew how to treat it.” His voice was strained as he peered over me to see into the room.  
“Death echoes aren’t killing people. Let’s keep moving,” Dean said, already moving down the hall without us.  
The first three floors went by without incident, holding nothing but more death echoes. Several were grotesque and the noise they made haunting, but they were harmless nonetheless. I still jumped when they would magically appear in front of me. The only other time I nearly screamed was when one of the echoes glided straight through me. I wasn’t paying attention to what was in front of me; and before I knew it the pale ghost was passing out my back, drawing all my body’s warmth with it. I shuddered heavily from the sudden chill and discomfort, stomping my feet in place a few times which made the guys chuckle.  
“Wait; did you hear that?” Dean asked, holding a hand up to silence us.  
“Yeah, it was me, dummy,” I said, still shivering from the cold of the death echo.  
“No,” he snapped at me with narrowed eyes. “Not you-”  
“That,” Sam said, cutting him off and suddenly on high alert.   
This time I heard the noise they were referring to, a low creaking of the floor coming from the other side of a closed door to our left. It sounded like the shifting of weight on old wooden planks and I tried to assure myself it was nothing but rats. As I gripped my crowbar tighter, I nearly laughed at my pitiful excuse. I’m surrounded by ghosts and think it’s something as simple as mice.  
Even as I tried not to guess what else it might be, a loud explosion shook the section of the hallway we were in. The door concealing the noise burst open wide, clipping my shoulder and completely knocking Sam over. He stumbled backwards into me, dragging both of us down in a tangle of limbs and flannel. I heard Dean shout as I moved one of Sam’s legs, trying to avoid getting kicked in the head by a massive foot, only catching a glimpse of his backside as he raced into the stairwell.   
Untangling myself was easier said than done, but somehow we managed and hurried after Dean. His boots echoed as he clattered up the flight above us until it stopped and sounded like he was struggling with something. Sam and I quickened our steps, afraid he was fighting a ghost by himself and sorely losing. I stopped dead in my tracks when I reached the top level to see Dean holding-  
“A kid?” I stuttered in shock. Sure enough, Dean had a teenage boy by the collar, holding him firmly against the wall. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen with a shock of red hair swooped across his forehead and wearing a letterman jacket. His build suggested football and he reminded me of a member of the latest craze boyband. His stark white face also said he was terrified beyond reason even as he struggled against Dean’s iron grip.  
“Let go of me!” he squealed, voice cracking. “Who are you people?”  
“FBI,” I answered without thinking, pulling my badge out of my inside jacket pocket for him to see. I heard Sam shuffle behind me as he flashed his fake I.D. too.  
The kid’s eyes grew wide as he thought of the trouble he was surely in, but a small glimmer said that he didn’t quite believe us. “No way. What’re feds doing here; and carrying crowbars?” He was now eyeing us suspiciously as he leaned away from Dean’s scowl.  
Sam was quick to think of an excuse that might sound believable. “They called us in due to a high number of trespassers,” he said, looking down his nose at the boy as he stashed his badge.  
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you?” Dean threatened, picking the boy up off his feet.  
The kid looked ready to wet himself and I could see Dean was pissed at having to waste time, so I stepped in. “Why don’t we put him down and just be civil, yeah?” I suggested, resting a hand lightly on Dean’s shoulder and hoping he listened to me.  
“Tell us how you got in,” he told the boy while glaring, “and I’ll think about it.”  
I nodded when the kid looked to me for help, thinking me the sensible one. “There- there’s a broken board on one of the first-floor windows you- you can crawl through. Every- everyone knows that.”  
“Everyone knows that,” Dean mimicked, releasing his collar and setting him down roughly. The kid popped his shirt to look tough but thought better of it as he sized up the Winchester brothers. Dean had his arms crossed in irritation while Sam looked as if he were trying to solve a complex math equation in his head.  
“So, what’s your name?” I asked the kid, trying to dissipate the unfriendly masculine atmosphere.  
He eyed me warily but answered anyways. “Evan Zimmerman,” he said, ducking his head instead of meeting my gaze.  
“What are you doing here, Zimmerman?” Sam questioned, a mixture of concern and worry still on his face. Evan mumbled something incoherent in response, the tips of his ears turning a similar color to his hair. Dean and I glanced at each other to make sure we heard him right.  
“You’re hiding out in the world’s most haunted place, at night, for some girl?” Dean scoffed at the kid, still not seeming to believe it.  
“She’s not just some girl!” Evan protested, balling his fists at his side. “She’s the most beautiful senior at school.” As he said that, the three of us groaned, knowing immediately what happened here.  
“You got stood up, man,” Sam said sympathetically, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.  
Evan’s face flushed with anger as he shrugged out from underneath Sam. “Did not. She’s just late is all.” My heart kind of broke for the kid because even he didn’t seem to believe the lie. “She might be there right now and I’m not.”  
“I don’t think so.” Dean sounded bored as he grabbed Evan’s collar as the boy tried to take off down the stairwell. “You’re coming with us,” he said, heaving the duffel bag higher up his shoulder, ready to leave.  
Sam instantly started protesting, claiming they couldn’t endanger an innocent kid. But Dean was fast to quip back, stating that he didn’t think there was a case here after all and he was not about to leave the kid to have a heart attack over a death echo. At the mention of the echo, Evan threw his voice into the mix, wanting to know who exactly these crazy people were. I sighed heavily, not wanting to pick sides or get in the middle of this right now. I was almost at my limit as their voices reached new levels, until the already cold temperature in the building dropped another ten degrees.  
“Guys,” I said, trying to get their attention as I stared down the fifth-floor hallway. It took two more times before they even noticed, turning to me with an exacerbated what. “Look,” and I pointed down the hall. Moments before there had been dozens of death echoes waltzing around. In a second, they all disappeared simultaneously.  
“Decided to show up after all, did she?” Dean said, a lusty grin creeping up his face as he gazed down the empty hall. My pulse quickened as ice crystals hung in the air in front of my face. “New plan,” he said hastily, checking the number of shells in his shotgun, “Sam with me. Avery, watch our six with the kid. Let’s go.”   
He didn’t wait for a response from anyone, assuming we wouldn’t back talk, already setting off down the corridor. Evan was visibly shaking and trying to edge down the stairs again. I shook my head and grabbed his jacket, pushing him to walk in front of me. He gave me a pouty frown, but thankfully fell in step beside me.   
Dean and Sam worked like a well-oiled machine, walking side by side as they checked each room. The air turned colder and the atmosphere dank as we crept closer to room 502. The sound of scurrying rats grew louder, sending shivers down my back. But there was no choice except to go forward. I constantly swiveled my head to check behind me, only to see nothing.  
We rounded the last corner, the far stairwell finally within sight. Even as I breathed a shallow sigh of relief, I caught the flicker out of the corner of my eye. “Behind you!” I shouted at Dean, before I even know what I was looking at.   
A translucent, decaying woman in rags with a violent expression on her face came flying through a wall, separating the boys from me and Evan. She screeched in anger as I gave her away, batting the Winchesters toward the exit with a throw of her hand. They slammed into the wall heavily, weapons scattering. The ghost turned her attention to me, soaring through the air at neck-breaking speed. I nearly dropped my crowbar until I remembered the piece of iron in my hand. Using both hands, I swung it in an upwards arc, slashing through her torso. She dissipated into the air, only inches from my face.  
“Y’all okay?” I yelled, eyeing Evan first and then the boys. Evan’s eyes were wide as saucers and Dean was out cold, but Sam managed to grumble some semblance of an answer at me.  
I took a step toward them, fully intending to help; but something stopped me. Instead of going forward, I was thrown backwards. My head collided violently with something hard that quickly stopped my momentum. My vision instantly went dark as I struggled to comprehend what just happened. I could hear grunting coupled with a high-pitched squeal, but it seemed so far away. Come on, I thought to myself, knowing my life was possibly in danger. It took a few seconds more to realize my brain was addled by a concussion.  
The more I blinked, the more my vision began to clear. Everything was a blurry mess and down the hall I could see two large dark blobs struggling against a bright form. I gritted my teeth as I pushed against the wall to raise myself off the floor. I fought the urge to vomit as a hand went to the back of my head, a large knot already forming. I stood slowly, wanting the room to stop its spinning. My knees tried locking just when I thought I had found my balance, but I managed to stay upright.   
Letting a shallow breath out through my mouth, I turned toward the continuing scuffle. Dean was conscious and currently attempting to reload his shotgun while Sam defended them. The apparition was heaving anything she could find at them, even pulling a nearby door off its hinges. There wasn’t much Sam could do to stop it. He tried to brace against the heavy weight, but the ghost was stronger. It pinned both boys against the closed doors of the stairwell, leaving them defenseless. Fighting my concussion, I tried quickly looking for a weapon. There were none to be found and the boys were running out of time.  
“Mary!” I hollered at the top of my lungs, wondering what the hell was I doing. A distraction at best, it did the job. The violent woman whirled around, locking me in her sights. Thank god for that stupid tour guide who had guessed the name correctly. I shut my eyes as I continued to talk, not wanting to see the aftermath if this didn’t work. “I know what he did to you,” I said rapidly, tripping over the words. “What they did to you!” I corrected when I heard her screech.   
I counted to five in my head, waiting for whatever pain might be coming. And when nothing happened, I slowly opened one eyelid. She was hovering a few feet in front of me, hands reaching out. Her fingers were spasming as if she wanted to claw my eyes out but couldn’t. Her head swiveled sharply, twisting at angles that were inhuman. She was honestly more frightening like this, making my mouth feel like it had been stuffed with cotton.  
The sheer terror managed to sweep some of the confusion out of my head. I had to keep talking before she decided to snap my neck. “He- he- he said he loved you, didn’t he?” She hissed when I mentioned him, causing me to jump slightly. “And when you- you got pregnant, he did- didn’t keep his word.”  
She began to shriek again, but the noise was cut off. In the blink of an eye, the decaying façade faded away to reveal a petite blonde dressed in an antique nursing uniform. She stood quietly in front of me now, hands folded together over a swollen belly, with a confused expression on her pale white face.   
Her mouth worked for a moment before she spoke. “He… lied,” she said in a slow, rasping voice.  
I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t say the wrong thing to set her off again. “I know he did. So, he tried to cover up his mistake. Except you wouldn’t let him; and he killed you for it. Got the doctors to help, strung you up in the rafters, and kicked the chair out beneath you.”   
Her face scrunched in anger, the glistening tear giving away the pain she was trying to conceal. “Murderers,” she snarled, hands clenching tighter.  
She was furious, and she had every right to be. The love of her life had thrown her out like she was nothing more than garbage. And he’d taken an innocent life too. Trapped in the building for eternity, she was lashing out at anyone she could. Wait; had all her victims been men? What I remembered of the case file confirmed my budding theory.   
“Killing us won’t fix what he did. Let me help you.” I tried appealing to her as a fellow woman; a woman who’d had her heart broken. Maybe she’d listen. “If you let us go, we can give you peace.” I looked over her shoulder at the trapped Winchesters, who were in utter shock. She cocked her head at me to meet my gaze. I dropped my eyes to where her hands curled protectively around her baby bump. “Don’t you want to be with her? Forever? Don’t let him continue to control you.”  
I saw her jaw clench, gritting teeth, and for a moment I thought I’d gone too far. Instead, the door pinning the boys fell loudly to the floor and they stumbled backwards when the stairwell opened too. “Leave,” she croaked. “Now.”  
I nodded hurriedly at the boys, already walking briskly toward them. Sam had an arm outstretched to me while Dean scrambled to grab our things. I was following Dean out of the hallway, Sam’s large hand on my back, when I heard a voice.  
“Hey guys! Wait for me!” Who-? Oh, shit, Evan! I whirled around to see the red headed boy running down the hall after us. I had completely forgotten about him in the confusion. He must have gotten flung further away when I was slammed into the wall.  
“No!” I shouted, too little too late. Sweet innocent Mary transformed back into the furious decaying apparition she was, but not before she mouthed something at me. She slammed heavily into the kid, knocking his breath away. His scream mixed with the ghost’s as she pushed him through the open door of room 502. I heard glass shatter as I tried to run after him.  
Someone yelled at me that we had to go now, taking my hand and pulling me along after them. Someone else herded me from behind, saying to go faster. We exploded out the same side door we had entered the loathsome building through. I nearly bit the dust when my feet hit grass, but Sam yanked me upright before I fell. Everything moved in slow motion as I jerked my head toward the front of the building. The glow of flashlights bobbed against the brick until one spotlight landed on a mangled corpse lying on the ground.  
I jerked my face away, not able to bear the sight. Instead, I let Dean continue to pull me across the field. Neither brother wasted any time in helping me climb the fence, throwing themselves over it just as swiftly. Dean peeled out in the Impala before I even had my door shut. He didn’t stop until we were back at the motel and positive no one had followed us.   
None of us moved as the engine clicked off. We all sighed collectively and leaned heavily against the leather seats. I wasn’t sure what to think or say, all too aware of the thrumming inside my skull from the concussion. A full minute passed in silence before Dean struck the steering wheel with his fist.  
“Dammit!” he cursed, striking it again in his frustration. “All of that for nothing!”  
“Not for nothing,” I said quietly, grasping at the words on the tip of my tongue.  
“No?” he asked angrily, turning in his seat to lecture me. “We barely got out of there with our lives and we can’t even salt and burn her!”  
Salt and burn? We needed a grave to do that. But I knew where she was buried, didn’t I? It was what she had tried to tell me before she murdered Evan. “Meadow View,” I mumbled to myself.   
Dean threw up his hands in defeat with a scoff. “Oh great! She’s got a friggin’ concussion,” he said vehemently. I scowled at him, not liking the tone of his voice.  
Sam’s head popped up from where it was leaned over the glow of his cellphone, sending his hair flying. “No-”  
“Yes,” his brother insisted.  
“Maybe!” Sam said over him to make sure he was heard. “Meadow View is a cemetery not far from here. But how did you know?”   
Both brothers were now looking at me like I had suddenly grown a third eye. “She told me,” I said simply, shrugging.  
“Yeah, speaking of talking with ghosts, how the hell d’you know that’d work?” Dean asked, eyes narrowed.  
“This one story just really stuck out to me when I was researching the case last night. It was written by a medium who claimed to have spoken with Mary. Said it was murder instead of suicide. I guess she’s a real medium since Mary didn’t, you know-”  
“Kill us?” Dean offered sarcastically. Of course, he wasn’t happy about my methods, but he couldn’t argue with the results. He gave a sigh, shaking his head. “Since we’re here, we might as well pack up and hit the cemetery on the way out.” He checked the watch on his wrist before saying, “Doubt anyone’ll be back in that building before dawn, so we’ve got a few minutes to spare.”  
True to his word, we packed what few belongings we had and hightailed it to Meadow View Cemetery. Everyone flinched when we heard sirens blare down the road as we broke into the graveyard. Thankfully they kept going, probably on the way to Waverly Hills. We found Mary buried in a modest grave with a small headstone. The dates matched our ghost close enough for us to begin digging.   
As dawn peaked through the tree line, Sam helped pull me from the dirt hole we had dug. Dean let me do the honors, saying it was only right being my first hunt and all. As the flames consumed Mary’s bones, I imagined her finally at peace with the child she had lost. But the harder I tried to envision it, the more I saw Evan’s lifeless mangled body lying alone on the hard ground. We’d promised to protect him and failed miserably. A single tear slipped down my cheek that I quickly brushed away. I doubted I would forget his face as long as I lived.  
The flames morbidly warmed the cold air as Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. It was a comforting gesture that I leaned into, reaching my hand up to rest on his. Dean clapped my back before starting to walk off. “Nice job, short stuff,” was all he said.  
“Where do we go now?” I called after him, turning with the giant beside me.  
“Sioux Falls.”


End file.
